Pulse
by MatildaSue
Summary: Pulse is a group of teenagers who all share the same passion. Dance. They flashmob allover NYC, giving a voice to all of those who have dreams but have no one to believe in them. Their leader and founder? None other then Percy Jackson. What happens when he meets Annabeth, daughter of Athena Chase, owner of the most prestigious dance school in NYC, who wants to join? Please readA/U
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hey! I'm back! :D I got inspired to write this after I watched the **

**movie StepUp 3 at my friend's party. Basically, if you haven't seen it, **

**its about Sean, the leader of a flashmob group called "The Mob". He **

**meets Emily, an aspiring dancer who also happens to be the daughter **

**of a man who plans to clear out this spot of land and build a resort, **

**and this spot of land happens to be Sean's neighborhood. The **

**dialogue stinks but the dancing is AMAZING! I hope you enjoy it, **

**and if you do, please share the love by leaving a review! I do not own **

**anything you may see here, other than the plot and some of the **

**location names. Any characters, names, places, and others that you **

**may recognize belong to their rightful owners. **

_PROLOGUE:_

I'm sweating, even though I haven't even started to dance yet. There are

only five more people in front of me. There are over twenty behind me, and

around fifteen already auditioned. Soon, it will be my turn. If I make it, I'll be

accepted into the Mount Olympus School of Dance, the most famous and

prestigious dance school in New York City. If I don't, then I'll end up like all

of the other rejects. I'll apply for some job that I don't like, and make barely

enough money to pay rent. I watch as the other dancers get called up on

stage. I watch as one girl starts doing a contemporary routine. She was

pretty, with long, choppy brown hair that was pulled into a simple braid. Her

high cheekbones and full lips gave her a regal air, but her sparkling,

kaleidoscope eyes seemed to glint with fun and amusement. Not really my

type, but I'm sure some guys would drool over her. Her name was Piper, I

think. I thought her routine was beautiful, the way she seemed to float, walk

on air. But the judges thought that her dancing was "amateur". She winced,

her eyes brimming with tears. But she walked offstage with her head held

high, which I admired. I began wondering, what would happen to her? I

started thinking about what her life would be like now. Some people gave

up everything to make it in the world of dance. I was so lost in thought that I

didn't notice that the person in front of me had already finished. "Perseus

Jackson," they called. That was my cue. I had butterflies in my stomach.

Now was my chance. Make it or break it. I walk onstage, nervous, but try to

hide it. I keep my shoulders strait and my head up. I turn to face the very

people that could either shatter my dreams, or make them a reality. The

judging panel consisted of Hestia Vrede*, head contemporary instructor,

Aphrodite Lieben**, head ballet instructor, Artemis Gumala***, head tap/

jazz instructor, Apollo Sole****, head hip hop/breakdance instructor, and,

finally, the jack of all trades, the big cheese. The most iconic and most

recognized dance instructor in the United States. Athena Chase. She

studies me with her intimidating grey eyes, the color of storm clouds.

"Dance genre?" She asks me. I try to sound confident. "Hip hop." I can see

Mr. Sole's eyebrows rise, interested. "Why did you come here?" He

inquires, curious. I take a deep breath. "Because, nobody believed in me.

No one thought I would make it. I'm here to show that I can do it, to prove

to myself that I can make it, because I know I can." He nods in reply. "You

may begin." I plug my iPod into the dock, and hit "Play". I feel the tempo, let

it make it's way through me as I tap my foot to it. I wait for my cue in the

music, blood pounding in my ears. It comes, and I dance. I know my routine

inside and out. I know it so well that I don't even need to think. Just dance.

Each movement my body makes feels natural, and I feel great. I move to

the rhythm. The dance ends too soon, and I'm perspiring, my chest

heaving, as I wait for my fate to be decided. I see them jotting down notes

and murmuring amongst themselves, too low for me to make out. Then,

they all started nodding in agreement. I couldn't read their expressions as

they turned to face me. "We have made our decision," Mrs. Chase

announced. "You were okay. A street-like performance, at best. You aren't

ready. You have possible talent, and that is all. You are not good enough

yet. Thank you for coming, you may exit through your left." I am shocked. I

am crushed. I am angry, and so disappointed in myself. I grab my stuff and

march offstage. I yank the door open to leave, shivering as soon as the

cool air hits my warm skin. I blew it. My only chance and I blew it. Too many

people in my life said that I couldn't make it, that the chances were a million

to one. But I pushed. And I pushed and I pushed, only to have someone tell

me I'm not good enough. I was sick of it. Sick of how they treated us, not

just me, but hundreds of others as well. Like that girl at the auditions, Piper.

I wanted to do something about it. Then, a plan formed in my head. A plan

so wild, it had to work. I was going to give people like me a voice. How? By

doing what I do best.

*Vrede=Peace in Dutch

**Lieben=Love in German

***Gumala=Moon in Fillipino

****Sole=Sun in Italien

**So, what did you think? Cool how I came up with those last names, huh? (Yay for Google Translate!) Please tell me if you liked it by leaving me a review, because you're a nice person, right? You wouldn't just read this story, say "That was good," and move on to the next would you? *bats eyelashes* And for those of you who didn't like it, leave me a review anyway! Thank you for reading! REVIEW!...Pretty please?**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yello! I'd like to give a special thank you to ****_TheRealLeilaJackson_****, ****_AntiThalico_****,****_ wiseowl19_****, ****_MysteryPerson _****and especially ****_Hestia11_**** because of her continuous support. You guys were my first reviewers and you made my day! Also, I'd like to point out that I have been getting complaints about the formate. Honestly, it's getting really annoying! (The formate, not the complaints.) I'm trying to fix it, and in future chapters I'll probably be messing around with the formate. So, if you are reading this story, or any of my other stories, can you please do me a favor and tell me which way isn't going to give you a migraine? I would really appreciate it! **

_Chapter 1;_

_Annabeth's POV:_

"Annabeth! Keep your head up, dear!" Called my ballet instructor from the other end of the studio. "Yes, Mrs. Lieben," I answered. I'm in the middle of rehearsal,

practicing the routine that we were going to be presenting at the annual New York City Dance Extravaganza. It's a huge event, a full week of showcasing a

variety of different types of dance, with dancers from across the globe. Under normal circumstances, the performers have to be at least nineteen years of age to

be part of the festival, but this year was going to be different. This year, they've decided that they are going to select one male and one female from each

category to perform with some of the most renowned dance studios in the world. The winners of the ballet category will have the chance of a lifetime. Dancing

on stage, as a lead dancer, with the American Ballet Theater, headquartered right here in NYC! It has always been my dream to be part of the A.B.T. family, and

make it as a successful ballerina. I know, the chances of making it are a million to one, but dancing is and always will be my passion, so I'll never give up. That's

why I'm pushing myself hard right now, because you'll only be successful if you practice. My mother drilled that thought into my head when I began dancing at

the tender age of three. Practice. Practice. Practice. Rehearsal ends too soon. "Very good girls!" Mrs. Lieben praised. Daniel, the only boy in our group, cleared

his throat loudly. "Oh, I'm sorry. You too Daniel! Keep practicing at home, you guys. In just a few short months it will be the big event, and in less time will be

your auditions! Have a great day everybody!" I take a swig from my water bottle and start to grab my things. I'm halfway to the door when Mrs. Lieben stops

me. "Annabeth? Can we talk in my office?" I nod, and follow her into the small workspace. Before, this office was probably bland and boring, just a chair, a desk,

and a small window looking out onto the parking lot. Now, it's what me and the other dancers call, " The Barbie Room". The used-to-be beige walls are covered in

a pastel pink wallpaper, that has pinstripes of sky blue and white. The window now wears frilly curtains, hot pink this time, with a gold curtain rod. The hardwood

floor is now hidden underneath a pink and black, zebra printed rug. A small, stout, fuchsia bookcase is crammed with romance novels, trashy tabloids, magazines,

and on top is a small pot of blooming roses and pink orchids. She even had pictures and paintings of the Eiffel Tower, the Seine River, and other sites of Paris,

framed on her desk and hanging on the walls. "Please, have a seat," she offered, gesturing to the small white wicker chair that stood in front of her desk. I sit in

the chair. Well, try too, anyways. The chair was probably meant for kids half my size. Giving up, I just stand facing my teacher. "What did you want to see me

about, Mrs. Lieben?" She gave a small smile, showing off her pearly whites. "Please, Annabeth, call me Aphrodite. 'Mrs. Lieben' makes me sound and feel so old

and boring." Aphrodite is the opposite of just that. She's only in her early thirties, yet she could pass off as a college student. Plus, she's anything but boring.

Aphrodite is extremely pretty, I'm sure some supermodels would be jealous. Her glossy hair, naturally curly and wavy, is a dark brown, almost black, and is pined

up in a ballerina bun. Her sparkling emerald eyes are framed with long thick lashes, and her full, pink lips are almost always pulled up in a friendly smile. She is

also a lot of fun. During our breaks, she would bring out some articles of clothing from her closet at home, and we would come up with outfits for her, some

sophisticated, some absolutely ridiculous. But, she always managed to look great in all of them. "Annabeth, the reason I want to talk to you is because I think

you have great technique and skill in dance. You have progressed a lot during the past years..." I blush a little. "Thank you, Mrs Li...Er, Aphrodite." "But, that

means almost nothing. You lack originality, hon. You need to find some, if you want to have even a sliver of a chance of making it during the auditions. Your

mother has the same opinion." I wince. Being a dancer is hard enough, but being a dancer while having a mom who owns the very school you practice in and is a

critically acclaimed dancer, that's a challenge all in it's self. 'Great' was never good enough. It had to be perfect, precise, spot on. Aphrodite gives me an apologetic

smile. "I know, it's hard living in a someone's shadow, isn't it?" I sigh. "Yeah, it's tough sometimes," I admit. "Well, thank you for the advice, anyways." "Of

course, dear. You're always welcome in my office if you need me." I smile in thanks, and start to walk out the door. As I leave, Aphrodite calls out, "Remember

what I told you! Find some inspiration!" I think to myself, _"In a city as big as New York, where am I going to find some?"_

**Yay! Another chapter! :D Thanks again to all of those who read, followed, favorited, and/or reviewed this story. You guys rock!**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: OH. MY. ZEUS! 11 reviews, 14 favorites, 26 followers and 484 views, and only after two chapters!? You guys are totally supercalifragilisticexpralidocious! (This extraordinary word is from Mary Poppins, in case you didn't know!) Thank you ****_Mitzipitzi, CthulhulsReal, Howlsong12, Annechase, BalletGirl98, Hoii it's TiffaNY, Just-AWESOME-old-me, LaurenDaGal, RinnieDaughterOfAthena, blankslate37, hb15, julilivingston8, mcanika, 120420yyl, Alexandra Jackson rocks Hades, AriaPhoenixFire, , Elia19, FerL, Isi Writer, Marionette of Ancient Relics, MegJackson, Midnight Alwas, Naguse, Redheadsread, heycupcake915, wassuprandompeople, wisdom conquers all _****and ****_xNereikax _*****Phew!* for being amazing people, awesome authors, incredible bookworms and for reviewing, following and/or favoriting this story. It means a lot!**

_Chapter 2;_

_Annabeth's POV:_

The cold November air nips at my nose and cheeks as I exit the studio. I

walk over to the small hotel next door, where Charlie waits for me, my

"personal chauffeur." We met about a year ago. It had always been difficult

hailing a cab, even after calling for one on the hotel phone. One afternoon,

I was waiting for the cab I sent for for over an hour. Frustrated and hungry, I

made my way over to the closest Dunk n' Donuts there was, about a fifteen

minute walk. I ordered a latte and an apple fritter, but then realized that if I

wanted to hail a cab home, I didn't have enough money to get anything to

eat. The man waiting behind me just so happened to be Charlie, and as I

started to explain to the annoyed lady behind the register to cancel my

order, Charlie spoke up. "Don't need ta cancel notin'. 'S on me." I was

shocked that this man, whom I never met in my life, offered to pay for my

food. He gave her a twenty, picked up my "meal" and his, and plopped it

onto a table with a window looking over Manhattan traffic. Speechless, I

managed to chock out a feeble "Thank you". He chuckled. "Fo' a lovely lady

like ya'll, my pleasure." I found out that he was a taxi driver with Gray

Sisters Taxi Services, and that he was in the business for fifteen years.

"Ya' meet alota people in da biz, some famous, some wit' no sanity left."

Ever since that day, we became close pals, and no matter what time of day

or what he already had scheduled, he always made time to come pick me

up. I have his cell number on speed dial.

I see his car now, parked under the three-star rated building's faded

awning. He glances up from the newspaper he was reading, and on

spotting me, gets out of the vehicle and tips his cap towards me in greeting.

"Evenin' Miss Annabet', how ya' been?" He asks me with his rough, yet soft

voice, his kind blue eyes twinkling. I smile in response. "I'm great, thanks.

How about you? How's business going?" "Righ' slo'," He huffs, "I geet hea'

fasta' then lightnin'. No one ta stop me." He opens the door and ushers me

in. We chat about my life and his life during the drive, he asking about

dance, me asking about his wife Martha and his nine year old son Joshua.

Our conversations always make time fly by quickly, because we had

already arrived after what felt like twenty minutes, even though my house

was a little ways from town. Some will call my home a mansion, and I can

see their point. It is big and modern, with a greek influence. Smooth

marble steps lead up to the greek columns that flank the huge glass double

doors, lined with gold, underneath a circular, solid white "awning". A

beautiful porch wraps around the fourth story, looking out onto our fifteen

acres of land. All of the windows are ornate with light blue shutters, the

same color as the rounded, almost domed roof. Aside from being a great

dancer, my mother, Athena Chase, also has a knack for architecture,

especially greek architecture, which I also enjoy. She spent a summer in

Athens when she was pregnant for me and learned all about the style and

structure of their buildings. She also developed a strange addiction for

greek yogurt.

Charlie gets out of the car, opens the door and helps me out, being the

gentleman that he is. I try paying him, or at least giving him a tip, but every

time I bring out my wallet, he refuses my offers. "Annabet', how many times

do I have ta tell ya', I drive ya' where ya' wanna go 'cause I wanna. Ya' are

my friend, an' friends aint' geet paid by friends." In the end, though, if I can't

pay him, I treat him to coffee now and then, which he begrudgingly accepts.

He honks as he pulls out of the driveway and I wave goodbye. I bring out

my keys and unlock the door, knowing already that the house was vacant,

since my mom is in New Jersey for a business meeting I walk inside and

drop my stuff by the spiral staircase by the door, which twists up to the

second floor, then goes up and around to the third and fourth floors.

Hungry, I head to the kitchen and open up the fridge to heat up some pizza

leftover from last night, when my best friend Thalia came over to hang out.

Thalia and I met when we were in kindergarten, and became fast friends

until first grade, where we got in a huge fight over nothing.

It all started when we were drawing pictures during free times. Thalia

scrawled all over the paper, attacking it with her crayon, while I was using a

ruler and a sharpened pencil, making sure everything was perfect. Thalia

looked over at my picture, her electric blue eyes filled with awe, then looked

at her own and back up at me. "Annie," She started, calling me by her

annoying nickname, "You aw soooooo perfet!" She was trying to be nice,

but my junior self took it the wrong way. "No! You, you aw..." I tried to think

of the word that I heard the big kids say. "You aw Elmo!" The word that I

tried to call her was "emo", but I mispronounced it. I didn't even know what

it meant at the time. Thalia, even though she didn't know what I meant, was

infuriated with me for trying to insult her. Her meaty toddler hands clenched

into fists, as did my own. "Smarty pants!" "Booger!" "Stupid!" "Meanie!" We

were both red in the face. "Oh yeah?" Thalia shrieked, "Then maybe we not

friends anymo'!" "Fine! I not even wanna be friends with you!" I said, even

though I was crushed inside. We both stomped away, bawling, until the

teacher intervened. Luckily, We ended up in the same class again in fourth

grade, where we started hanging out, and we became best friends all over

again.

I am broken out of my reverie when the microwave beeps, signaling that

the food is heated up. I eat alone and in silence, which is something that I

am used too. My mom leaves town a lot for business meetings, and when

she is in town, she's either working in the studio or in her home office with

the door closed. When she has a day off or isn't busy, which is rare, we

take advantage of that and spend the whole day together, walking in the

park or hitting the town, and finish the day with a nice, sit-down meal, at

home or in a restaurant. It's the only time I get to really bond with my mom,

the only time I see her really relaxed, her stormy grey eyes, identical to

mine, free of worry and tension, filled instead with joy and excitement. It's

been a while since we've had one of those days. I get up to grab a drink

when the phone rings. Since I have caller I.D, I know that it's Thalia. I pick

up the phone. "Hey, Thals. Wha-" I don't have time to finish because I'm cut

off by a shrill scream. "OHMYGODS! Annie, you have GOT to see this! It's

SOOOO cool! They just popped out of no where and then there was music

and..." "THALIA! Just calm down! What's going on?" "I have to show you,

be there in a few!" And with that she hung up, leaving me confused at the

other end, wondering about what she wanted to show me. With

Thalia, you can never be too sure.

**A/N: The seen from Annabeth's past, when she and Thalia got in a fight, is actually based on a true story! Of course, not as dramatic, but the same type of thing. I wanted to dive into Annabeth's past a little, and adding an OC, Charlie, was kinda fun! I took ****_MysteryPerson_****'s advice and tried using paragraphs. Does it look wonky? Please let me know what you think, formate or otherwise, by leaving a review. Thanks for reading! **


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: What's up guys? Sorry I couldn't update sooner, I was busy working on my new OneShot called ****_Drool Worthy_****. I had the idea and I couldn't shake it off, so I had to write it. It features a cute monologue, spoken by Annabeth about her thoughts on Percy, denying that she has feelings for him (failing miserably at it) and explaining how he is so not drool worthy. Check it out if you are interested, it would mean a lot. Thanks again to all of those who followed, favorited and reviewed this story. You guys rock!**

_Chapter 3;_

_Annabeth's POV:_

The doorbell rings only thirty minutes after Thalia called me, a personal

record for her, which means that whatever she wants to show me must be

pretty important. I bolt towards the door and open it, revealing my

breathless, overly excited best friend. Her leather jacket is inside out and

her spiky, jet black hair is a tangled mess. Although Thalia is a total punk

tomboy, one thing that she can't stand is having messy hair*, so to see her

like this, her head adorned with a midnight rat's nest, is kind of alarming.

"Thalia, what is it?"

"I have to show you this!" She almost yelps, charged and jittery as she

literally bounces past me into the house.

"Calm down, Thals! Deep breaths," I coax her into taking a seat on the

living room couch.

"Now, what is so important that you would sacrifice brushing your hair to

show me?" I almost tease her. If she noticed she chose to ignore it.

"Okay, so I was in a cab coming home after work, from my dad's office

building downtown, and everything was calm until some random cars

swerved up, blocking the road. The drivers came out, they looked like they

were around our age, some were kind of hot..." I roll my eyes. Leave it up

to Thalia to notice hot guys in the middle of complete chaos.

"Anyways, they climbed up onto the hoods of the cars, and more teens

popped up from the sidewalks and sauntered onto the street, music started

playing and, well, _this_ happened." She pulls out her phone, and clicks on a

video. It starts to play and it shows exactly what she was describing.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

Dozens of people our age, fifteen to eighteen year olds, doing a flashmob

in the middle of New York City! It's incredible. The song that is played

during the dance, pulsing out of a gigantic boom box, is a remix of "Wild

Ones", by Flo Rida. Their style of dancing is mostly hip hop and street, not

my favorite, but they're amazing. Then, while some of them are still

standing on them, the cars start to tilt backwards, then slam down, and

repeat. During that, a few guys start doing crazy flips and begin

breakdancing. It's mass insanity as people from the streets start cheering

and taking videos. I can feel my jaw going slack with awe. These dancers

are so in sync, so professional like, it's incredible. I can almost feel the

passion they have for dancing, just by watching the video. Just as

spontaneously as they started, the song ends, and while the crowd that

gathered is applauding, they all hop into separate vehicles and burn rubber,

racing away. But, before getting in the passenger's seat of a beat up pickup

truck, a boy maybe a year older then I am scans the crowd quickly, and

while he does it I all of my attention becomes focused on one thing. His

eyes. Sea green. Before the video ends, as the screen begins to darken, I

notice something else. Three big glass panes standing one in front of the

other in the middle of the street are spray painted, quite artistically I might

add, in a 3-D fashion, with graffiti and one single word in bright, neon

purple. "PULSE". The screen goes black.

"Wasn't that the coolest thing you've ever seen?" Thalia squeals.

I manage a small nod, still amazed. It's weird, and I don't understand it, but

it's like I'm drawn to this group of dancers, Pulse, even though I don't

recognize any of them from the video. And then it hits me. This is perfect!

Mrs. Lieben says that I need to be more original, more creative. What's

more original then being part of a flashmob group? This is exactly what I

need. I need to be a part of this group.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

"Earth to Annie!"

I blink, unsure of where I am. Thalia snaps her fingers in front of my face. I

must have zoned out.

"What?"

She rolls her eyes at me.

"Your eyebrows were furrowed and you were zonked out while I was trying

to talk to you. You only get that look when your deep in thought. What's on

your mind?"

I hesitate, unsure if I should tell her that I want to be a part of Pulse, afraid

if she'll laugh in my face and say that it's a ridiculous idea.

_"Come on Annabeth!"_ I chide myself._ "Thalia Grace is your best friend, she _

_would never do that to you. You can trust her." _

"Well?" She asks, her eyes questioning and a little worried. "Are you gonna

tell me or not?"

I take a deep breath.

"I want to join Pulse."

Thalia blinks in surprise, looking shocked, and I flinch, looking down on my

lap feeling my face getting hot with embarrassment. She must think I'm

insane for seriously considering joining a group which I know nothing

about. I don't even have any idea on how to become a part of the group or

who to contact! I face palm myself mentally._"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid..."_ I

glance upwards to see if her facial expression changed at all. And it did.

But not into a sneer of a smirk, oh no. A wide, toothy, out of control grin.

Her eyes sparkle with excitement and mischief.

"No wonder we're best friends! Our minds are so different yet think so

alike!"

I'm a bit confused.

"Wha...What do you mean?"

"It means," She starts, rolling her eyes, but still smiling. "That you should

count me in."

**It might be a little OOC for Thalia to be like that, but a lot of my friends are, well, not tomboy, but they are definitely not girly yet they hate it when they're hair is all messy. Thought I'd add it in, just for fun!**

**A/N: I know that this was pretty short, so I'll try to make it up for future chapters. Was the format better? Worse? Were any of the characters to OOC? Please let me know what your thoughts are by leaving me a review! If we can make it up to 25 reviews, that would make me so happy! You wouldn't want to see me ****_un_****happy, would you? *tear tear* Love y'all! :D**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: You probably hate me, don't you? I am so sorry for not updating, but it's almost the end of the school year for me, and you know what that means...EXAMES! Dun dun duuun! But on the bright side, YAY! 25 reviews, 25 favorites and 47 followers already? You guys are AWESOME with a capital A-W-E-S...Uh, you get the idea. :) Special shout-out to all of my good friends here on fanfiction; ****_Hestia11_****,****_ Musika14_****,****_ CrazyPsychoStalkerChild _****and ****_Soccer2468_****. They are amazing people and great authors. Now prepare to get stoked, for I will be starting...A contest!* **

***see details after reading this chapter and leaving a review or else you will be disqualified. Kidding!..Or am I? Just read!**

_Chapter 4;_

_Annabeth's POV:_

Thalia and I race to my laptop, to dig up as much information on Pulse as we can. I type it in the search engine and scroll down the page, looking at the options that just came up.

"Definition of the word pulse...How to detect a pulse...Video of a pulsing heart, ew!..Must see pulse-pounding movies...Aha! Pulse, mysterious flashmob group."

I click on the link, which sends me to a Youtube video of the five o'clock news, an anchorman sitting behind his desk. I hit the play button.

"Something interesting happened this afternoon in the heart of New York City," The man starts, glancing down at his papers before continuing.

"While pedestrians and drivers were minding their own business, four unidentified vehicles swerved up in front of the traffic flow, causing a major disruption. But it was not with malicious intent, however, because it was a well planed flashmob! Some young adults described it as "totally cool" and "unexpected"..."

I snicker when he tries to say "totally cool".

"...Yet some adults and elders thought that it was "very disruptive". We have Maya Meade live on the scene with more information. Maya?"

The image switches over to show a young woman, with curly auburn hair and brown eyes, standing in front of a busy street.

"Thank you, Barry. As you can see, I am here standing on Farley Street*, right in the heart of New York City. This was the stage for a surprising spectacle that happened earlier this afternoon. Let's see what the locals thought about it."

The camera shifts to an older lady with stark white hair, that was walking by with a cane. A microphone is held towards her face.

"Miss?" The reporter asks, "Can you share your thoughts on the flashmob that happened earlier?"

The old lady scowls at the camera, lines etching into her already wrinkled face.

"If you ask me, it was just a band of riled up teenagers who had nothing else better to do then cause a ruckus. That devil music that they played could've popped my hearing aid! I bet they disobeyed their parents to pull off that stunt. Shameful, if you ask me."

After that cheerful interview, the camera now shows two girls, around eighteen, who are trying to look cute in front of the camera, twirling their hair and batting their obviously fake eyelashes.

"Oh my gosh!" The first one, a bubbly blonde gushes, "I was like, driving, and then the dancers just came out of, like nowhere!"

"Yeah!" The other one, a petite brunette squealed. "I was all, like, Ella, do you know what's going on? And she was like, IDK Brenda, but this is like, totally cool!"

I roll my eyes, and Thalia snickers.

_Mortals._

The camera refaces the news woman.

"Well, there you have it, Pulse is definitely making a statement. Will they strike again? If so, then where? I'm Maya Meade, with NYC News, keeping you posted, signing off. Back to you, Barry."

The video ends, causing the screen to go black. I grumble a little bit, since the video didn't really divulge any info, but a glimmer of hope shimmered inside myself. What if Pulse struck again? If I somehow found out when and where they would do it, I could try to meet the leader. It's perfect. I have a lot to think about tonight.

"Man, that sucked," Thalia commented, "But we can look up more stuff."

I yawn.

"I don't think so Thalia, I think I'm gonna hit the sac early tonight. I'm pretty pooped. Besides, I have work tomorrow."

She sighs.

"Fine, I guess I better head home anyway. I have to babysit late tomorrow night."

She puts on her jacket, properly this time, and walks over to the door. I close up my laptop and put it back in it's case.

"'Night, Annie."

"'Night, Thals."

I watch her walk down the front steps and get in her blue Fiat from the window. She smiles and waves as she pulls out of the driveway. I wave back.

-LiNe BrEaKeR-

I drag myself upstairs to get ready for bed. I slip into my favorite pair of PJs, grey silk with little silver owls, then head to the bathroom where I release my blonde curls from my ballerina bun and brush them out. I'm not a vain person, but occasionally I like to examen myself in the mirror, to see if I changed at all after a long day. I didn't. Same piercing gray eyes, encircled with dark lashes. Same long, golden locks, tall and lithe frame, small nose, long legs, and etcetera. I'm certainly not the ugliest thing on the planet, but, even though I have my favorite physical traits, I wouldn't feel comfortable calling myself "beautiful." My family and friends beg to differ, which I appreciate, but to myself, I'm decent, attractive maybe, but not beautiful. That's fine by me. Beauty has never been my first priority. I wear seldom any makeup, and when I go shopping it's only for books. Call me a nerd, I don't mine. I will always rather having smarts and knowledge then looks and popularity. Though it would be nice to not be treated like a geek, even if I am respected in the classes and halls of Goode High. I sigh, and continue getting ready for bed. Finished, I shuffle back to my room and flop onto my bed, pulling the blankets up to my chin. My eyelids shut, I will for sleep to come. Slowly, it pulls me under, and everything fades away to black.

...what's this? looks like a line breaker...

I'm laughing. I'm laughing so hard, my sides hurt. I haven't laughed like this since someone tricked Thalia into coming to school wearing a frilly pink cheerleader's outfit, mini skirt and all. Another voice joins my guffaws, low and smooth. The same voice that must've told me a really funny joke to make me almost wet myself. I look around, brushing the tears out of my eyes, but I can't see him. What I do see as I get up from the cool, hardwood floor, is that I am surrounded by mirrors. Ballet bars line the walls, along with hooks to hang up jackets. It takes me a second to realize that I'm standing in my dance studio. I glance at one of my many reflexions and find that I'm wearing a white leotard, a stiff, pale grey tutu and my favorite pair of rose petal pink point shoes. My hair is pulled up in a tight bun. I frown, confused. How did I get here? When did I get changed? The voice chuckles softly again, vibrating around the room, comforting me, relaxing me. I could swear that I'v never heard this voice before, yet it feels like I'v known the owner of the voice for years. It speaks again, and my heart skips a beat.

"Well?" He asks, seductive. "You're not gonna keep me waiting, are you?"

I look over my shoulder to where the sound is coming from, and there he is. Wearing a navy blue hoodie, with the sleeves ripped off, that was zipped open to reveal his bare, muscular chest, ripped cargo shorts and scuffed skater shoes, he leans against one of the giant mirrors in the far left corner of the studio, toned arms crossed, waiting. His face is obscured by the hood and a New York Mets wide rimmed baseball cap, but I can still see a mop of jet black hair peeking out and the corners of his mouth turned up into a smirk. He looks around seventeen, judging by his height. I walk towards this mystery boy, curious as to what he wants to show me. I get closer and I notice that the mirror that he was leaning on isn't a mirror but a door, a reflective cover on the front. The boy reaches over and turns the doorknob which was invisible from afar but know stuck out like a sore thumb, opening the secret entrance. Music wafts in from the other side, a mix between slow songs and fast beats, a strange and beautiful harmony

causing me to sway in time, inviting me to join the party and dance. Clapping, laughter and stomping follow suit. Mr. Mysterious offers me his hand, dragging me through the doorway. I stumble through, expecting to find pulsing lights and a crowd of people, but instead I feel the floor beneath me shift and smell a tinge of salt in the air. I look down and find myself barefoot, the point shoes vanished, my toes covered in...sand? The squawk of a seagull startles me, and my head tilts up to see the ocean, it's waters the mix of emerald green and deep blue, stretched out as far as the eye can see. There isn't a cloud in the sky. The boy takes my hand and pulls me gently to the water's edge. Glancing at my rippled image in the surf's surface, I can see that I am now wearing a simple, one shoulder greek styled white sundress with a braided gold belt under my bust. My now liberated hair brushes past my shoulders in golden princess curls, some of them framing my petite face. He is wearing linen shorts, also white, with a matching button up shirt that is left unbuttoned. We wade into the water and stop when it's level reaches me mid-shin. I can't bring myself to look into his eyes, so I settle with watching his mouth which is turned up in a small smile. We are close enough for me to smell his breath, clean and fresh as the sea. I am overwhelmed with a sudden desire to reach up and kiss those lips, gentle and soft. I've never felt this way before. He pulls me in closer. I rest my head on his chest and place my hands on his shoulders. I can hear his heartbeat, strong and steady. Arms wrap around my back and waist, strong and warm. We begin turning in slow circles in that position, and it isn't until he starts humming a tuneless melody that I realize that we're slow dancing. I gather my courage and lift myself up on my toes, reaching for his face. We lean in closer. My heart races. Before our lips crash together I catch a glimpse of his eyes. Beautiful, sea green eyes...

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,breaking the line, lining the break,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

My eyelids fly open, and I expect to be on the beach, see him standing next to me, but he's gone. I'm in my room, sitting up in my bed, daylight peeking in from the windows. It was only just a dream. I flop down on my back, stretch my arms and stare at the ceiling. I'v had weird dreams before, but I don't feel anything or remember anything afterwards, and they were always really short. This dream was so, so vivid, so real, so long. I stay in bed wrapped up in my blankets and I think, my mind to focused on the dream to wonder about anything else. About five to ten minutes go by. I can't help but remember those eyes...

I jump out of bed. What time was it? I glance at my alarm clock, which I forgot to set last night. It's already 11:56. Four minutes until my shift at work. Crap.

**A/N: There you are! High five if you got the song quote I snuck in there. Hint: Reread the last paragraphe. I made it extra long because I felt guilty for not updating. Farley Street is just a made up street because I didn't feel like looking up a real street name in New York. I've been there, but I don't really pay attention to street names. Sue me. Anyways, the contest. Here are the rules:**

**I will either quote a line, quote a song or post a scene at the end of following chapters. These will be pulled from books, movies, TV shows or broadway musicales (theatre fanatic! :P). They wont all be my favorites, they'll just be picked out at random. What you must do; in a review or a PM, tell me where it's from (what title, what show, etc.), who said/sung it and in what scene (If it's a book it doesn't have to be the exact page or chapter, you just have to describe what's going on. Goes for everything else, too). I will NOT except answers like; "That book about the dude with the shirt" or anything of that genre. It doesn't matter if I get what you're trying to explain or not, those answers are NOT valid. You MUST be fairly specific. Pretty simple, right? I will be posting TEN and ONLY TEN of these, so in the end the contestant with the most right answers will win. If it so happens to be a tie between two or more, the prize will be evenly distributed. IMPORTANT! If you are a Guest on FanFiction, you are eligible like everyone else to join, but if you win, you can NOT receive the prize. The prize: If you win, you will receive a summary AND a sneak-peak of my soon-to-be new story; Fly, via PM. I will also check out ALL of your stories. Even if you have 167 stories, which may take time, I will still read them ALL. PLUS I'll leave a bunch of reviews. If you have an account but don't have any stories, that's OK. You'll still receive the other parts of the prize. Finally, the winners will get a special shout-out at the end of the contest (includes Guests). Even if you didn't win, I will send you a warm "thank you" for participating. Sound good? All right, let's get started!**

**_ROUND 1:_**

**_"Now, as the ladder of life 'as been strung,_**

**_You might think a sweep's on the bottommost rung._**

**_Though I spends me time in the ashes and smoke,_**

**_In this 'ole wide world there's no 'appier bloke."_**

**Send me your answer! Remember; WHERE is it from, WHO sung/said it and WHAT is happening in the scene. May the odds be ever in your favor. **


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry it took so long to update, I'v been busy studying. Summer break is less than two weeks away! :) Thank you guys so much for your support. Your reviews, follows, favorites and views mean a lot!**

_CHAPTER 5;_

_PERCY'S POV:_

"No, no, no and NO! Percy, that has got to be the most ridiculous idea EVER!"

I am currently in the middle of a conversation-scratch that, an _argument_-with my best friend.

"Come on!" I pleaded. "Grover, even you have to admit that it's creative."

Grover has been my best friend for five years, since we were twelve. I can be a little stupid and unpredictable, whilst Grover is the more mature one.

"Creative, maybe. Possible, no! Dancing in the middle of the street without getting arrested was tricky enough. Your so called plan on the other hand...No, it's just too crazy."

"But that's just what we need! Our first mob was good, and it got us a few views. So what? We need something bigger, something unexpected, and if were gonna do it, we gotta do it NOW."

I'm putting my foot down. I'm pretty stubborn when I want to. Sensing this, Grover lets go of an exasperated sigh.

"Fine. We'll vote."

He turns to address the rest of the group. There are about fifty of us in total, but only a dozen or so of us are present. There's Piper, Leo, Travis, Jason, Katie, Conner, Hazel, Frank, Will, Nyssa, Clarisse and Chris, plus myself and Grover.

"Allrighty, then. Who thinks that Percy's idea is too over the top?"

A few hands went up.

"Okay. Four are against it. Who's in?"

Everybody else's hands flew up, creating a majority. I can't help the smirk that's forming on my lips.

"Too bad, G-man. Looks like that's our next mob!"

The small room erupts into cheers. Even Grover starts to smile.

"Should we start choreographing?" Piper asks me.

"Sure. You start rounding up all of the ladies and I'll take the gents."

She smiles.

"You got it Captain."

It's a little inside joke we have going on. Since I was the one who founded Pulse and I love the ocean and ships as much as I love dance, they decided to start calling me Captain. It was a little annoying at the time, but the name just stuck. It grew on me.

"Contemporary?"

"You got it. Also try to incorporate a little bit of hip hop, too. Okay guys, I'll start working on some moves while you guys spread the word. Sound good?"

Nods and "yups" follow my orders, and soon I'm left alone in our studio. Well, I shouldn't say studio. It's more like an abandoned warehouse, situated under

Argo's Bar and Pizza Parlor. Not very glamorous, but the restaurant is a great hangout spot. Besides, we jacked it up a bit to make it feel more like home. A few

polkadot bean bag chairs, a beat up TV set placed atop a round coffee table, paper lanterns and christmas lights hanging around the ceiling's support beams and

the _piece de resistance_, a hot pink mini fridge with sky blue tiger stripes. Sexy, I know. And manly. The owner, Mr. C. Brunner (Brun for short), lets us rent out

the place for free since he never uses it, plus he and my dad used to be childhood friends from elementary through college. I live only with my mom, Sally

Jackson, since my dad left us when I was two. Mom describes him as a good man, but I can't see how anyone good would leave a woman and her child,

struggling to pay bills, without so much as a goodbye note. I glance at one of the many dusty, cracked mirrors, that must've been forgotten there for decades,

and analyze my features. I'm not in love with myself, trust me. I just want to see if I look any different. Mop of dark hair? Check. Defined chin and jawline?

Check. Eyes? Same. Mom says I inherited my "good looks" from my father. I hate that. I don't want to look like some jerk who left the amazing person that is

my mother for some ditzy twenty year old with curves and nothing else. I sigh, my ADHD acting up again. I turn my attention back to the task at hand. I pull

my iPod out of my pants pocket and shuffle aimlessly through my song selection, stopping when I land on David Guetta's Titanium. Catchy, good for HH (Hip Hop)

and Break, (Breakdancing). Not the greatest for Temp. (Contemporary) though. I keep flipping through my playlist and find some good songs from Alicia Keys.

Definitely possibilities. I'll ask Freddy to mash and remix them up later. I start to practice some dance moves that could be put in the choreography. Drop, kick out

and swivel, up, pump hands up and down by my sides while twisting, one handstand, jump, wave, heel toe, moonwalk and on I go. Fifteen to twenty minutes

later I'm grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, along with a cold piece of pepperoni pizza, fresh from Argo's. After already chugging down almost half of my

water, my mouth ends three inches away to take a bite of my snack when I hear knocking. Two slow ones, then three fast ones. A pause. One-two three-four

five-six then a loud thump on seven. It's our secret knock that we made, inspired by the Cup Song, so we would know if the person coming in was one of us.

"Come in!"

The old metal door grinds open slowly, making an awful screeching noise. Even though I'm used to it, I cringe anyways. I get up and make my way over where a figure stood. As I get closer, I notice that it's a boy, with shaggy, long dark hair, black eyes and a pale face. He's wearing a black aviator jacket, worn out dark wash skinny jeans and black converses. I grin.

"Nico! What up my dead man?"

He gives a feeble smile in return. He looks nervous, not really making eye contact and fidgeting with his silver skull ring.

"Yeah, uh, Percy? I need to talk to you."

I frown. This doesn't sound good.

"What is it?"

"Your not gonna like this, but...I sorta kinda told somebody about us."

I can practically feel my eyeballs coming out of their sockets. Telling somebody about our flashmob group is a joint decision. We can't let our members just walk around the city blabbing about what were doing. The dancers we choose are handpicked, and even if they're great dancers, if they make any of us feel uncomfortable or we distrust them, they're gone. I can't believe Nico, of all people, would just tell somebody on the spot without asking! He's also one of my best friends and he's been around here longer then a lot of us, so he should know better!

"What?! Nico, you know the rules! We can't just hire whoever we want off the streets!"

He flinches, guilt washed over his features. I feel bad for yelling at him, but somebody's got to lay down the law.

"I know, I should've gotten you and the other's approval first, but believe me, she's an amazing dancer and she insisted that I take her here."

My eyebrow shoots up. Since when does Nico talk to girls who aren't a part of Pulse?

"She? Who is she?"

A small blush starts to creep up his neck.

"Um, yeah, her-"

He's interrupted when another figure appears from outside. Since the sun is peeking into the building and shinning on her back, I can only make out her silhouette. Tall and lithe, like a cobra.

"'She' would be me."

**A/N: Cliffy! You must hate me for leaving you in suspense, but who doesn't love a great cliff hanger? What do you think of this chapter being in Percy's POV? Should I alternate, like three with Annabeth then one with Percy? Let me know what you think! I have a goal; 40 reviews? Puh-leeeeze? I know you guys can do it, and if you do I will be so happy! :) Thanks for reading, and don't forget to submit your guesses in a review or a PM for the contest!**

**ROUND 2:**

**_ Oh, I know you and I are going to get along just fine, Mr. Cuthbert. I love this place already. I always heard that Prince Edward Island was the most beautiful place in Canada, and I used to imagine I was living here.This is the first dream that has ever come true for me. It's always been one of my dreams to live by the sea. These red roads are so peculiar. When we got into the train at Charlottetown and the red roads began to flash past, I asked Mrs. Spencer what made them red, and she said she didn't know and pity's sake not to ask her anymore questions. Dreams don't often come true, do they Mr. Cuthbert? Just now, I feel pretty nearly perfectly happy. I can't feel exactly perfectly happy because, what color would you call this? _**

**_Red. That's why I can't ever be perfectly happy. I know I'm skinny and a little freckled and my eyes are green. I can imagine I have a beautiful rose-leaf complexion and lovely, starry violet eyes, but I cannot imagine my red hair away. It'll be my life-long sorrow._**

**Good luck!**


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